Impossibilities
by Gurkblomma
Summary: This was not supposed to happen. it wasn't supposed to be possible. They, just like everyone else, were supposed to have the happy ever after, to live, laugh, love forever. He would live. He doesn't. FredxOC


_Summary: This was not supposed to happen. it wasn't supposed to be possible. They, just like everyone else, were supposed to have the happy ever after, to live, laugh, love forever and ever and life would be good and awesome and he would live. He would live. He doesn't. FredxOC_

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_**Impossibilities.**

This is not possible. It isn't.

This was not supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be possible. They, like everyone else, were supposed to have the happy ever after, to live, laugh, love forever and ever and life would be good and awesome and he would live. They were the good guys, so how could he not? He would live. He doesn't.

She didn´t see him fall. She still doesn't know quite how it happened, quite what happened; still no one has been able to break through their own grief to tell her enough to make her understand. She knows anyway. She knew when they met her gaze to look away, when a tear fell down Mr Weasley's face, when the Weasleys huddled next to one another and then she knew again when she saw his broken body and then it was true, for real, no escape. She would give a lot for an escape, for a life and it wouldn't be her own. It would be his and she supposes that is where the trouble lies. Had it been hers it would have been easier.

He promised her the world, you know. He promised children and laughter and friendship, dreams and hopes and all kinds of happiness. Most of all, he promised that he would live. He broke it. For the first time, he broke it and still she finds herself unwilling to believe. She has seen his body, the dead and cold body; she saw his fuckin' _body _and still she cannot believe it. Because if she did believe it, it would have to be true and if it was true it would be real and then he would never come back, promise or not. She repeats it in her mind. She cannot believe he broke his promise.

She took his wand. In all the chaos and darkness and despair she took it, stole it, demanded it. No one was interested enough in it then and if they are now they haven't mentioned it to her. She wouldn't care if they did because she wouldn't return it anyway.

She was told that when the war ended, happiness would follow. Or perhaps she was never told, she merely assumed. They were fighting for a better world after all, so it came naturally to believe she would get it better too. Many died, she knew it because her brother did too and then her friend and that is why no one is comforting her now, because no one is still alive. Fred was. He was always there for her, when her brother was brutally murdered before her eyes and then when her friend was imperioused and then again when so many others passed away and darkness conquered, he was there. They fought for the future together, in dreams if not in flesh and they were side by side, kissing, laughing, smiling; always forcing darkness away by harsh hand. When something happened he was the one she turned to and she wants to turn to him again but he isn't there. He… isn't. His family stands at a distance, his mother wailing and twin looking white, crushed beneath the burden of the knowledge as a bug destroyed forever under a human foot. She hasn't ever met them before and she feels as though she would like to now but she can't; she can't move, can't speak, and people rush around her, looking for friends and family and they cry and laugh when they find or do not find or find what they never wished to find. Finders keepers, she thinks distantly and in her hand is a wand that belonged to him, chose him, loved him. No, that's wrong. She was the one who loved him.

Nobody touches her arm. Nobody steps in front of her to ask if she is alright, is she injured, is she looking for someone, does she need help? The dead lie in a row in the Great Hall where the teachers used to eat and will eat again and she stands close to a wall but not leaning against it, wishing she wasn't there. She wants to be anywhere but here. She can see how Harry Potter, the brave Harry Potter, the One, their savior, how that Harry Potter is hugged and squeezed and they love him and they laugh around him and they celebrate, even the Weasleys who she recognizes only because of their red hair and that man who looks like her Fred, her love, who looks like him but isn't him and never will be. Never will be. Won't be. Will not be. She can't help but to stare, but in the whole room no one stares back.

They talked about marriage once. Twice, thrice, perhaps. The amount of times didn't matter. It wasn't like in the movies, where the woman is suddenly surprised by a proposal, it was different. Slowly they both came to assume it was there, it would be, happen and some day they would be husband and wife. When he looked at her sleeping he could imagine it being forever and when she woke to find him next to her she thought so too. They would marry. She feels desperation at the thought that she will never carry his ring on her hand, no ring at all and when she looks down and her fingers they feel cold and alone, naked almost and slowly she sinks to the ground where she sits and will sit for hours to come. Thoughts are twirling, breathing as if they had a life of their own but they don't and she feels something warm drizzle down by her cheek and she suddenly has hard time breathing as if the world was crashing down on her, crushing, she alone carries it. Still no one comes to talk to her and through the haze that is her thoughts and former dreams, only one thought survives.

She loves him. She loves him she loves him she loves him. She loves him. Forever and ever and throughout eternity, she thinks. She will.

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**AN: Sorry for possible grammatical and spelling errors. See, a blue, rather hairy monkey distracted me when writing this, and as you most certainly know, blue monkeys have a tendency of promoting errors.**


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